Yellow & Blue (Maya and Lucas one shots)
by riga789
Summary: [3] "Don't say anything stupid and sappy"
1. Chapter 1

The last person she expects to find standing by her locker the morning after her failed homework rebellion is _him_.

"What do you want?" She glowers at him as she opens her locker.

He looks so neat, with his blue t-shirt and grey hooded jacket and his stupid nice smile on his well rested face. In contrast, she's had a sleepless night worrying about her unfinished homework, and her tired, late-shift working mother, and she's thrown on the first set of clothes she found in her closet. Despite having showered, she feels scruffy and grimy next to him.

"Some help," he says.

The amusement in his voice is at odds with the stupid nice smile still gracing his stupid cute face. It's just an observation; she couldn't care less about his stupid face. "And what do I get out of it, cowboy?"

A look of alarm passes over his face. "Why do you think I'm a cowboy?"

"You're from Texas, what else does Texas have except for horses and cowboys?"

She knows she's exaggerating, and probably being more than mildly offensive, but she doesn't care. Besides, he seems amused rather than annoyed at her stereotypical view of his home state, so she doesn't let it bother her.

"Maybe one day you can visit and see for yourself."

Her head snaps up at that, and he looks stricken and red-faced when he realizes what he's said.

"Uh— I mean— I mean—"

He reminds her so much of Riley's goldfish Chelsea, with his mouth opening and shutting as he struggles to come up with an explanation or a response, that she has to smother a smirk.

"Save it, Heehaw. What did you want my help for?"

"Well, since I'm new here and don't really know much about the school, or about New York, I was wondering maybe if you could show me around."

He edges closer, the cockiness gone from his voice, replaced by a painful, earnest honesty. She wonders why the latter is more appealing than the former. Then she remembers she isn't supposed to find anything about him appealing.

"Why are you asking me? Why not ask Riley? She's the one who does stuff like this, helping people out, and being nice to them, and extending the hand of friendship, and all that crap."

He laughs. "I'm sure she'd be happy to help. But I'm also sure you know a lot more about the school and about New York than she does."

She narrows her eyes, studying him, trying to figure out what his motives are. She doesn't know why he's being so friendly with her, why he seems to want to hang out with her.

He looks at her hopefully, and he reminds her so much of Riley that her resolve to keep him at arm's length crumbles. "What do I get out of it?"

"I could help you with homework?"

She stills as anger grips her. She knows she acts like she doesn't care about school and homework, because it's easier to pretend that than it is to let her classmates learn about her situation at home. But that doesn't mean she wants people like him to rub it in her face.

"What makes you think I need help with homework?" she asks, her voice quietly dangerous.

He must have heard the ill-concealed threat in her tone because he definitely looks nervous as he hurries to explain. "I was at my locker round the corner, and I sort of overheard you and Mr. Matthews talking yesterday after we left history class."

If he overheard her telling Mr. Matthews that she has no one at home to help her with homework, he must have also heard Mr. Matthews say how she goes too far, and gets Riley into trouble. He's probably already made up his mind about her, convinced that she's a troublemaker. The thought both angers and saddens her.

But more, it makes his sudden insistence on hanging out with her suspicious. He either thinks he can be a good influence on her like Riley, and save her. Or he's tired of being such a good southern boy all the time, and wants to break a few rules by doing something that he thinks is exciting and dangerous in this new big city. And he's figured that she, being the troublemaker she is, can help him.

And, she has to admit, the latter sounds a bit farfetched. There's definitely more than meets the eye with him, but overall, he seems to be a rule follower, just like Riley. But she's yet to figure out his motive.

She stuffs some books in her locker before turning around to face him. "You often go around and listen to people's conversations, Goody-Two-Spurs? Didn't your mamma tell you that's not polite?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," he defends himself, his cheeks and ears going a bit red. He looks embarrassed and irritated.

When she says nothing, just raises her brow in question, he shifts uncomfortably.

"Look," he says, "You've been really nice to me ever since I got here. You came up to me and talked to me on the subway, and let me sit with you guys at lunch. I just want to say thanks."

This is the first time ever that anyone's accused her of being nice to them. It leaves her flustered. She doesn't like being flustered.

Before he can so much as blink, she grips the neck of his t-shirt and yanks him closer, pulling his face down to her level. "Let's get one thing straight, Cowboy. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not _nice_."

"I don't think I'd be talking to any of you if it wasn't for _you_ ," he says with utter sincerity, staring unblinking into her eyes.

Unknowingly, he's done something no one's ever been able to do before: he's rendered her speechless. She lets go of his t-shirt without even realizing her actions.

"Besides, didn't you say on the subway that we should hang out sometime?" His cheeky grin is back.

She stares at him, confused and frustrated at her inability to intimidate him. Most people back off when she gets in their face. But he just goes toe to toe with her and plays the game right back.

He stares back at her hopefully, eyes bright, that silly grin still plastered on his stupid face.

She inwardly sighs and reluctantly relents. "Alright. But I'm only doing this for Riley."

When he frowns, puzzled, she rolls her eyes and explains. "Riley likes you and wants us to be friends with you. And you're a Ranger Rick; you'll get mugged if you wander around New York by yourself. And Riley won't like that."

He grins at her knowingly. "Nice to know you care."

She glares at him. "And I don't need your help with homework. I can handle it."

"But—"

"Save it, Hop-Along." She slams her locker shut and saunters off.

He stares after her, sure she's the most frustrating, hard-headed, stubborn person he's ever met.

She doesn't bring up the subject of homework again for the next few weeks, neither in school nor during the couple of times they spend together while she shows him around Manhattan.

But then, the day after Mr. Matthews fails her in their assignment on evolution, she accosts him in the library.

"Hey Ranger Rick, remember how you offered to help me with my homework?"

"You want me to help you?" he asks eagerly.

"Even better," she smirks. "You can do my homework for me."

He sighs. "I'm not going to do your homework for you."

"But you're a huckleberry, you love doing homework and all this school stuff!"

"Maya, no one in their right mind loves homework. Except Farkle."

"And Riley."

He gestures with his hands, as if to say "there you go".

She whines, pouts, threatens, and wheedles, but he sticks firm to his decision, though he's entertained by the increasingly crazy reasons she keeps coming up for why he should do her homework for her.

Finally, she gives out a dramatic, long-suffering sigh. "Fine, Huckleberry, don't get your lasso in a knot. You can help me with my homework."

He rolls his eyes. As if he's the one who's been begging her to let him help, and she's doing him a favour by letting him.

But he's smiling as she pulls him down to sit with her at one of the tables in the library. He's not sure why, but he knows he wants to spend more time with his beautiful, fascinating blonde friend. And he's not complaining even if it's something as mundane as schoolwork that allows him to do that.

Maya's right, he really is a huckleberry.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Lucas let himself into his apartment near midnight, he was frozen and bone tired.

New York was experiencing a particularly severe blizzard, which had caused enough chaos to necessitate incorporating the entire NYPD into the full-scale disaster management efforts. Lucas's entire shift — which had turned into nearly thirty-six continuous duty hours, punctuated only by a short, snatched nap to catch up on sleep — had involved investigating thefts, muggings, and robberies by perpetrators who seemed to think it was a good idea to take advantage of the foul weather and the hapless people who had got caught outdoors and were struggling to make it home.

The warmth that hit him as soon as he entered the apartment nearly made him groan in relief. Though his precinct wasn't too far from his place, the arctic conditions outside, and the fact that he was so exhausted that a toddler was more capable than him of defending itself, had made the journey back a herculean task.

He barely managed to shut the door behind him before staggering to the couch and falling face-down on the cushions. It took his fuzzy brain a full minute to register that, since he'd been away for over a day, his apartment should be as cold as him instead of its current warm and toasty.

"Looky here! A real live Ranger Rick. Or at least, a not dead one."

Lucas was so tired that he barely managed to raise his head at the voice, before the identity of its owner registered. (At least his instincts were sound — even as dead as he was, he would have sensed and reacted to actual danger if there was any. He hoped.)

"Maya." He sagged back onto the couch with a groan.

"You look like you got run over by a herd of cows, Huckleberry." Maya sat down on the couch, by his head.

"Two herds," he mumbled, turning over stiffly so he could see his girlfriend's face. "Led by Tombstone the bull."

The sight of her in her sweatpants, fuzzy socks, and the big, thick sweater falling off one shoulder made him smile for the first time in two days.

"It's a good thing it's just you," he told her, shutting his eyes and moving his head to her lap. "If it was a burglar, I'd probably have to just let them rob the place."

" _"Just me"_ will remember to take your Playstation the next time you're too busy playing cops and robbers." Maya ran her fingers through his hair. Exhausted seemed too tame a word to describe Lucas's current condition. His skin was pale, there were shadows under his eyes, and she could feel his cold fingers through the fabric of her sweatpants. "Come on, let's get you out of these frozen clothes."

Despite his exhaustion, Lucas managed to muster up a sly grin. "Shortstack, as much as I'd love to, I don't think I'm in any condition tonight to—"

"Awww, that's too bad." Maya pushed his head off her lap and rose from the couch. "And here I got all... ready for you. I'm not wearing any underwear," she added when his green eyes snapped open.

Lucas lunged for her hand, and Maya jumped out of the way with a small shriek, laughing as he almost fell off the couch.

"You're evil," he told her, climbing stiffly to his feet and staggering after her into the bedroom. "I can barely walk."

"Hot shower. Change." she said, taking a t-shirt and a pair of worn sweats from his dresser and pushing them into his hands. She pressed close to him, slid her arms around his neck. "We can have some hot chocolate, warm up," she murmured. "Maybe then you'll be in better shape to..."

Warm, languid heat seeped into him as she pressed her lips her his, drew the kiss out. When she let go, his exhaustion and her kiss had him floating.

She gave his cheek a quick pat. "Quick it up," she said, smirking. "Hot chocolate's awaiting." She sauntered off.

Ten minutes later, feeling considerably less like a frozen popsicle, Lucas sat cocooned in a blanket on the couch. He had one arm wrapped around Maya, who was curled up on his lap and sharing the blanket with him, and a mug of steaming hot chocolate in the other. A fire burned in the fireplace, adding to the cosiness of the apartment.

Maya had put on Brooklyn Nine-Nine on Netflix — she always teased Lucas that his workplace was really like it was portrayed on the show. Lucas wished that was true, he loved the show, especially after a shift like this one. At least she'd spared him the torture of watching A Million Ways to Die in the West, one of those movies she found entertaining for reasons Lucas couldn't fathom, other than that it involved cowboys and poking fun at him.

"I thought we'd heat up one of your mom's pasta bakes for dinner," Maya said. She'd checked his freezer, and as usual, it was stocked with a good selection of his mama's home-cooked food.

Lucas simply grunted in response, leaning his head on Maya's shoulder. After so many hours of being alert and active, he could finally let himself unwind. The warmth was making the stress slowly drain away, leaving him feeling pleasantly relaxed.

His brain was still as fuzzy as it was when he came home, but that was okay, since he didn't plan to use it for anything more challenging than deciding where to cuddle up with his girlfriend or what to do for a meal. He wasn't going to think about anything other than spending some much-needed quality time with Maya for the next forty-eight hours.

He pressed a kiss to her jaw, the part of her he could most easily reach without moving, and felt her smile where her cheek rested against his forehead.

Barely a few minutes later, as the adventures of Jake Peralta and the Pontiac Bandit continued to play out onscreen, Maya felt Lucas's breathing deepen against her neck, where he'd buried his face. She glanced down, only to find that he had fallen fast asleep.

She rescued his mug of hot chocolate, which had begun to tilt dangerously and was at risk of depositing its hot contents all over their laps — he'd managed to have only half of it before passing out.

"Such a huckleberry," she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

She was rewarded with a loud snore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much Eloi22, Jess, and Guest for reviewing so far!**

* * *

 _Just a short drabble_. _Set sometime during college_. _Maya and Lucas, now in a relationship, are visiting Texas_.

* * *

"It's so beautiful," Maya murmurs, gazing up at the star-strewn Texas night sky.

Lying beside her, in the bed of the slightly rickety truck they've parked somewhere in the vast open fields of Pappy Joe's ranch land, Lucas shifts.

She can feel his gaze on her. "If you say something stupid and sappy, like "You're more beautiful" or something, I'm kicking you off the truck."

He laughs softly. "Fine, I won't say it." He scoots closer to her. "But you can't stop me from thinking it— _Ooof!_ "

He doubles up, simultaneously laughing, groaning and wheezing, when Maya elbows him in his abs. "Jeez, Maya!" He rubs his stomach.

"Quit trying to out-huckleberry yourself," she grumbles. But there's a smile in her voice as she snuggles into his side.


End file.
